Credit
by KamiNytha
Summary: "Give credit where credit is due" In which Jane is suspicious, Lisbon gets the credit she deserves and Jane learns something new.
1. Chapter 1: The Haircut

**A/N:** I think the writers of _The Mentalist_ should give Lisbon more credit in terms of knowing Jane and figureing stuff out, after all she is a very accomplished detective. And I know this story might give her too much credit but I still wanted to write it. I would be very interested in hearing your thoughts on my story or my point in general. The way i have the story planned at the moment is for there to be five chapters in total. Because of when I first got the idea, this would take place after Season 3 Episode 12 "Bloodhounds" - the episode with the lady that liked math too much and the couch. But before Season 3 Episode 13 "Red Alert". I hope you like it.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything pretaining to _The Mentalist _except for my TV and laptop which I use to watch it

**Chapter 1: The Haircut**

Jane was lounging on the couch in the bullpen, eyes closed, ears open. Cho was already at his desk, reading a book – they had wrapped up the case yesterday and had yet to get a new one. Rigsby was getting some breakfast in the kitchen area, though Jane knew he had already had something at home. Grace was organizing her desk, something she often did when she had the time as it always seemed to become messy when they had a case.

He was just wondering when Lisbon would come into the bullpen—she had gotten in before the others and gone straight to her office—when he heard her familiar footsteps. "Cho, Rigsby, Van Pelt," she greeted them all with a nod before turning, "Have you finished your report yet?" she asked crisply.

"Morning, boss. Yeah, here it is." Grace answered. S_o_ _that must be who Lisbon was addressing_. There was the sound of shuffling papers, "Oh, and nice haircut."

Jane had kept his eyes closed for the exchange so far, but once he heard Grace say that his eyes flew open and he sat up. He zoned in on the two women.

"Thanks," was Lisbon's reply, a light flush on her cheeks due to both her inability to receive compliments along with his reaction, eyes darting quickly at his sudden movement, before she left once more.

Jane stared at where she had been before laying back down on the couch, mind racing. Lisbon had indeed cut her hair—and not just a little. Her hair now was above her shoulders by a good inch or two, cut at a sort of angle, contrary to the fact that she had been letting it grow out for the past few weeks, few months.

He supposed some people wouldn't find it very significant but he was Patrick Jane. An abrupt change in Lisbon's appearance definitely deserved some consideration. Normally such actions were symbolic. What exactly it could symbolized varied though, as well as if they did so subconsciously or not. This symbolized something big, especially since Lisbon definitely did so consciously. While she may deny it if he asked and insist she just felt like it, he knew better—she never 'just felt' like anything.

Lisbon was a woman of purposeful action, never wasting a second or an action. No, this was important, he just didn't know how yet. _Hm, what to do next?_ He wasn't sure if it was curiosity, boredom or concern that made him feel this way or perhaps it was a mixture of all three, but he had to find out what was going on. He needed to know.

He decided he would go visit her in her office, see if anything was different. He faked a yawn before getting off his couch to go and make some tea. Everything was better with tea. While two of the other team members were too busy, eating and organizing respectively, one pair of shrewd eyes followed his progress, no doubt realizing the true intent of his trip.

Sometimes Jane wondered just how much Cho assumed and how correct he was in those assumptions. However, he was glad it was Cho that noticed and neither of the others. Cho could keep a secret, _not that being thrown off by Lisbon's haircut was a secret or anything_, he quickly added. He went into the kitchen area and began making his tea with practiced familiarity.

He took his perfectly brewed cup and meandered over to her office. He gave a brief knock before coming in without waiting for a response. She didn't even look up as he shut the door after himself and sat down on the couch. He took a sip before setting the cup down on the plate and stretching out on the brand new couch.

She couldn't help but look over at him as he let out an exaggerated relaxed sigh and rolled her eyes. "Can I help you?"

He smiled broadly, "I just came in to enjoy your brand new couch. Isn't it great?"

She scowled, "I want my old couch back. It was perfectly fine, thank you very much."

His smile grew, "So, Van Pelt hasn't managed to find it yet?" She glared at him, "Let me save you the trouble my dear, you won't get it back."

"What did you do with my couch?" she asked, glare intensifying.

"I had it taken care of," was all he said, eyes twinkling, but since she didn't stop glaring, he sighed, "Fine, I donated it to a homeless shelter. I suppose you could go ask for it back but I'm not sure they or the homeless would appreciate it," he added, the end with an obvious gloating tone to it.

She scowled, he was right; she wouldn't take from homeless people. Then her face brightened and she smirked triumphantly, "I could just offer them the new one in exchange. Which, as you've pointed out, is so much bigger and better."

His smile faltered for a second, surprised and a bit proud of her for figuring out a good retort before pointing out the flaw in her plan, "But it's already been there for a week, who knows what's happened to it." Now it was she who faltered, "It could have been damaged or have food on it or other ...things."

And now she was back to scowling, "Damn it, Jane. Why did you have to get rid of my couch? I liked that couch."

"Because, dear Lisbon, it was old and uncomfortable. My feet stuck off the end." Jane complained, I mean explained.

She gave him a stern look, "That's because it wasn't meant to for you to lay on it. It was a couch for my office. It was my couch. I liked it just the way it was."

He could see that she meant it. Oh well, she'd see reason soon enough. He bought that couch not only for him but for her as well. She needed some comfort in her life, even if it was only from an, admittedly awesome, couch.

She could see that he firmly believed in what he did and didn't regret it at all. She sighed, Jane would always be Jane, she supposed. "If that's all, I'd like to get back to my paperwork. Work that, might I add, is mostly because of you."

She'd given up on trying to explain how she felt about the couch without giving away too much, she didn't need to hand him amunition and just about everything was in his hands. She knew a lost cause when she saw one and decided to simply move on and go back to teasing and admonishing him at the same time, a skill she'd nearly perfected.

"I can't take all the credit," he responded with false modesty. At the shrewd look she gave him he gave in, just a bit, "Though I suppose I can take some of the credit. Besides, we caught the guy, right?"

"Of course, and this was all necessary to do so," she mocked back, gesturing to the papers. Now, though, she noticed that look was in his eye, the mischievous twinkle that implied he was planning a new scheme or had a new trick up his sleeve. They weren't on a case and she had much too much work to even begin to try and figure out was he was up to now. All she could hope was that whoever ended up getting hurt wouldn't blame the CBI or herself.

"Exactly." He agreed and she rolled her eyes, "Glad we're on the same page." He took another sip of tea before discovering that it was now empty. "Hm, it appears I am out of tea," he informed her and her eyebrow arched in response, clearly asking why he was telling her this.

"I must go get some more then. Good day, my dear," he added with a slight mocking bob of the head before exiting her office.

She shook her head, leaning back over her paperwork before he stuck his head back in, "And, by the way, short hair does look lovely on you," he added, staying just long enough to see the surprised blush spread over her cheeks before ducking back out.

As he headed back to the kitchen, however, he did not pour himself a new cup of tea. Oh no, he had a plan now. While he had been unable to detect much from their conversation other than her strange attachment to her old couch, which was troubling in itself (both the attachment and the fact that he couldn't detect anything), he knew something had to be up.

And during their conversation he had come up with the perfect plan to figure it out. it seemed as though this would be one of the rare slow days and while the others enjoyed the break he often found them trying and boring. Besides all that was required was a quick stop at Lisbon's house, under the radar a.k.a. without her, or anyone else's for that matter, knowledge; the perfect cure for a boring day

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><p><strong><span>AN:** There you go. Thank you for reading it and please send me your thoughts on it - the more people who say they like it that faster the next chapter will go up although I have to admit I'm not super fast with updating. I do however have a concrete plan and I would never ever abandon a story - my life is just really busy and stressful - don't blame me, blame everything else in my life. Anyway, review!

Sneak Peak: Next Chapter will be "_Breaking and Entering_"


	2. Chapter 2: Breaking and Entering

**A/N:** Here it is: the long awaited second chapter. I am so sorry it took so long to get this out there to anyone who read the first chapter. Blame all the stressful crap in my life and in my beta's life. I really meant to have it out much sooner. I hope you like it.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing –sad face–

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: Breaking and Entering<strong>

As Jane pulled into her parking lot, he briefly considered parking further away in case she came home early or perhaps, the slightly more likely scenario, to get something she may have left behind, but he decided against it, confident in his assumption that she wouldn't be coming home until after he was through. He parked, got out and made his way to her apartment. No one was at the complex from what he could see and, given that it was the middle of the day, he wasn't that surprised. He pulled out his own copy of her key once he reached her door and nonchalantly went inside.

He supposed he should feel some remorse or at least a bit of guilt over copying her key, but he really didn't. He figured someone ought to have an extra key to her place and you never know when you might need something like that, like now. Of course he could just pick the lock, but that would take time and look suspicious. It had taken some time and effort to get the key, too—he'd only had it in his possession for a couple of months despite their working together for a couple of years. Granted in the beginning he hadn't been _trying_ to get a key to her apartment but still. The fact that it took a bit of work and careful planning was a testament to Lisbon.

He decided to move on from the many ethical, social, and moral implications of him making his own key to her apartment and focused on trying to see if he could gain any clue from her apartment as to why she had cut her hair. Radical changes in appearance are often signs of depression or suicidal thoughts, but he had been quick to throw away that theory.

Lisbon may be stressed and over worked but she wasn't the type to get depressed, especially not suicidal. She simply had too much strength of character and would never do something like that. She just wasn't the type of person to, so he quickly moved passed that idea.

That meant that there had to be some other reason. Was she trying to reinvent herself? Trying to recapture some (in her opinion) dwindling youth? Perhaps it was for the summer? It may just be a trivial reason, but he found he needed to know because there was a reason, that was certain. Perhaps he was just looking for some justification for snooping around her place once more. And, once again, it wasn't like there was anything else to do today.

He looked around her living room, recalling the situation that got him in here the first time, properly supervised—kinda. That first time he was too concerned to really look around although the fact that the artwork came with the apartment was a pretty big point all on its own. She had been the closest he had ever seen her to becoming over whelmed and he had to admit it concerned and greatly worried him, more than he thought it would.

Later on he came over again for their grand plan. He had been more aware of his surroundings and less concerned - they had a foolproof plan after all, but unfortunately she was also a bit calmer and watched him like a hawk. He had thought that maybe while he was hiding upstairs he might get a chance to explore a bit but she had foreseen that as well and locked her bedroom door.

He pointed out that something as trivial as a lock wouldn't stand in his way, if he so wanted to get in-which he wasn't planning on doing of course. She retorted that it was just a precautionary measure. Then she pointed out that you needed the key not only to unlock but also to lock the door so even if he managed to get in by less than legal means he wouldn't be able to hide the fact from her. She then said something along the lines of "if I come back upstairs to find that door unlocked you don't even want to know what I'll do to you. And keep in mind that you have made me angry plenty of times-giving me plenty of time to come up with a multitude of creative punishments to choose from."

Needless to say he had decided that maybe this wasn't the time to try and delve into the inner layers of Lisbon's intriguing persona. So he poked around a bit up there, in other rooms, examined pictures and such but nothing too interesting, nothing he didn't know before. It all simply reinforced what he already knew about her.

He now began to unabashedly look around, partly to observe and partly to make sure to commit it all to memory so that he could make sure everything was put back in its proper place when he was finished.

After he was sure he had the layout in his mind he began walking through the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator. It wasn't very full and most everything in it was easy to prepare. He shook his head; she really should put more effort into her eating habits. It was bad enough that she often forgot meals during hard cases but she should at least have something good to come home to. He would try and see if he could invite himself over and cook for her.

He looked through her cabinets as well, not looking for anything in particular and he didn't really expect o find anything. He was looking more just to look, he was always trying to figure Lisbon out and he planned on taking his time. He didn't want to accidentally overlook anything. Most of her dishes were plain and practical as well as well-used. He had a feeling they were from when she was growing up. Leave it to ever practical Lisbon to decide against getting something new because the ones from before were "just as good". She was a very firm believer in "if it isn't broken, don't fix it."

He left the kitchen as there was nothing more to be gained from there. He moved onto her living room, systematically memorizing and going through what was there. He studied her pictures, all of her family, only one with her in it. It appeared she had some nieces and nephews, he hadn't realized it at first because they looked a lot like her brothers when they were younger. She clearly cared a lot about her family, something he already knew but it was interesting to see the proof-from the pictures to the well worn baseball glove next to them.

He noticed that she had a number of books of ranging genres and even some romance novels under one of the cushions on the couch. He scanned her CD collection, surprised at some, delighted at the number of songs they both liked, making a mental note to listen to some of the ones he didn't know. Her apartment was very nice overall, if a bit messy, though that was partly due to the fact that she was only here much on the weekends. In many ways her office at CBI and her apartment were equally her home.

He poked around downstairs for about half an hour and while it was all very interesting, he hadn't really found anything in particular that might signify the abrupt change in her appearance. He chose to move upstairs now that he had an excuse to justify going to her bedroom.

He quickly climbed the stairs and scanned the short hallway. Aside from a couple more pictures and a small table, whose drawer was revealed to hold only a bible and gun (the second he'd found so far), it was empty. He ducked briefly in the guest room which didn't tell him much about her as it wasn't for her and merely informed him that no one extra was taking up residence at her place.

He moved on to the bathroom, carefully combing through her cabinet but seeing no medicines that might signify any new illnesses and only pointed out that she suffered from too many tension headaches. He took note of the shampoo she used (he was frustrated to see that it was not the source of the cinnamon scent that seemed to envelope her). In one drawer he did find a barely used bottle of perfume (which was also not the source) that he believed was her mother's old brand, as a way for Lisbon to feel closer to her at times.

He left that room and went over to her bedroom door. He rubbed his hands together, wondering if he should be as eager as he was. After a few seconds of contemplation he merely shrugged. He turned the knob, which was thankfully unlocked. Not even Lisbon was so paranoid as to lock it on (what she assumed to be) an ordinary day. After all, she had no idea that he would break into her apartment this morning, hell—_he_didn't even know he would be, and he was the fake psychic.

Jane opened the door cautiously, half expecting an alarm to go off. He peered into the room before stepping in and observing Lisbon's inner sanctum. Straight ahead of him was a dresser with a mirror over it, both made of a somewhat dark wood and relatively good quality. A matching bureau was against the wall to his right and across from that was her bed. It was a queen and had a navy comforter with matching pillows. There was a nightstand next to it as well, matching the rest of the furniture. Directly to his left was a closet with accordion doors, one half open.

He moved farther into the room and began to observe more closely, mentally cataloging everything. He wanted to be able to remember everything because right now he was looking for something specific, but later on he would want to analyze the rest of the room. The bed was made but as he looked closer he saw that it had been made in a hurry. There was a landscape painting above her bed, a lake at night. It was clearly not just from the people before her as the others were. It was a beautiful painting, yet with a touch of isolation to it, a singular swan gliding across the water, strangely suited to her.

The nightstand had a lamp, a book, a report and her alarm clock on it. The report was standard procedure, due once a month and the book was one he had never heard of, _Elsewhere_. He almost flipped through both before remembering he was on a deadline and moving onto the next object. On a whim, he went over and checked what time her clock was set to. _Hm, was getting up at 6:30 really necessary?_A quick glance at his phone told him that her clock was also ten minutes fast. He glanced in the drawer and had an old rosary as well as a bible (given to her on her Communion, according to the inscription).

Her dresser had an old music box, a hair brush and a wooden jewelry box on it along with a couple of hair ties in a crudely made ceramic bowl. He looked through the jewelry box, being extra careful. Her room was the most likely place she would notice any disturbances. Most of the pieces were her style, understated and simple yet elegant. A couple had clearly been gifts, things she appreciated for the thought but would only wear around the giver. All very interesting and yet similarly unhelpful.

He moved to her dresser and opened the various drawers. He acted briskly, professionally: searching, not snooping. He carefully went through, making sure nothing was hidden, and—aside from a rather expensive necklace, nothing was. While he supposed he wasn't exactly expecting to find a diary or something it was still a bit disappointing.

He went over to her closet, opening the door all the way. Inside she had her many work clothes organized, somewhat. The shirts and jackets and pants were all separates but no more categorized than that. Then there were her "street clothes", though there were less of those. Down on the end he found that green dress she had worn to that one fundraiser. Surprisingly, he found another rather fancy dress and even a couple of casual dresses and skirts. He supposed it didn't make that much sense to be surprised, but he was. Lisbon was just so comfortable in work clothes he found it hard to think of her in anything else—or, at least, being comfortable in anything else.

He knelt down and found a couple pairs of shoes, though, far less than most women had. He even found a yearbook. It appeared to be from her senior year. He flipped through it. She appeared to be just as uncomfortable with pictures back then as she was now. He quickly checked the band and was somewhat annoyed to find that she didn't appear to be in it. _Which didn't mean she hadn't been before nor that she didn't just play on the side or played an instrument you didn't play in the band_, he reassured himself. He also looked at the track team picture. Apparently she was rather good, and fit in well with the team. Most of the signatures in the back were from members of the team.

He rooted around a bit more and made sure everything was put back in exactly the same place. He was beginning to get more annoyed with his inability to find anything significant to the recent events. The only place left to search was under her bed. He went over and looked under but all that was there was a few more boxes with some childhood things.

Even he wasn't completely immune to privacy and while he would love to go through all of Lisbon's stuff, he could tell by the dust that had gathered on the box that it hadn't been opened in weeks, at least. With no imperative reason to look through it, he decided to resist the urge especially since he was beginning to feel the tiniest bit guilty. He took another look around, trying to see if he had missed anything.

He ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated. Nothing, nothing that explained the hair cut. He sighed as he exited the room and began heading down the stairs. Could he have misread the situation? He was hardly ever wrong, but he was the first to admit (silently, of course) that he wasn't infallible. Did he miss something in his search? Maybe...

His thought train was cut off when he froze. Something had made him stop; something was off. He went back up a couple steps, literally retracing his steps. He slowly went down, looking around from the slight aerial view, when he heard it. He looked down, studying the step beneath his feet. The carpet absorbed most of the noise, but to the trained ear there was a slight difference in the sound of that step and the ones above and below it.

Luckily the rug was only a throw rug, and he simply continued down the last three steps and lifted it up. He carefully rolled it up until the hard wood of the first four steps was revealed, placing the portion of the rug he had rolled up on the fifth. He knocked lightly on the particular step and then the one below and he found that his initial assumption had been correct: it had a distinctive hollow ring to it that the others lacked. He carefully pried the step up, set it aside and looked down at what he had uncovered...

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><p><strong>AN:** Well there it is. I hope it was worth the wait. I blame far too many stories involving trapdoors when I was growing up. I also lay blame to Lane Kim of Gilmore Girls - after that who didn't want to be able to lift up their floorboards to hide random stuff from their parents? Or was that really just me? -shrugs- Oh well lol Anyway now as I read it through a final time I'm unsure as to how much I like how it came out. Oh, well – too late for that now. My next update shouldn't take as long because stuff should be slowing down. I promise it won't take two months at least.

**Next Chapter:** What Jane Found


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